


A Collection of Original Poems

by WelcomeToTheEndOfThings



Category: Original Work
Genre: Depression, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Original Fiction, Poetry, Suicide, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:09:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6860152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WelcomeToTheEndOfThings/pseuds/WelcomeToTheEndOfThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poetry that probably shouldn't be shared but I don't care. I write to simply write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cheshire Cat

We've been wandering these halls, hoping.  
somebody will hear our desperate screams as they shred our broken throats. The tears that drip down our faces in the form of waterfalls turn themselves into the blood dripping down our wrists. Throwing itself against the ground with a hard plip plop, as it falls and attacks the tile beneath our feet; the crimson bubble explodes across the floor. 

 

They should've noticed our aching hearts and heavy souls sooner. Before our grins blossomed into the Cheshire cat's look alike; our mouths filled with sharp blades ready to tear us to pieces every time the maws we call eyes open up wide. The claws that dig their way into the dictator that sits up high above everything else shrieks as our hearts shrivel with every ticking, draining minute and year that passes by; killing our pulsating, pain filled time box. The rhythm unknown and delving into slower softer beats as the last smile and tears stay immortalised upon our frozen faces.


	2. Little Dove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My friend tried to kill himself a while ago and this is what came about from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that things seem like they'll never change and that this may seem hypocritical because I have yet to actually get help: you should reach out to somebody if you can.

Soft weightless feathers

Drift down from the sky and dance up into the clouds 

So sweetly pure in the color of white

Until the rain begins pouring and they're left in the sad reality as the paint drips off of them like melted wax

Too late to warn the others as they follow through and the acid finds them in new ways, stripping them of their masks 

Yet the ones most damaged remain white in the face of others: too use to the masks glued against their faces

Oh sweet dove, why have you sent all your feathers away to this sad cruel world

When they've known nothing but your protection in the sweet cradle of your wings

Stabbing gusts of wind harsher than a jagged knives penetrating tip against send you spiralling closer and closer to the ground every time it happens

Cry out little feather please, say something so we can help you: so you do not perish before the striking of deaths planned clock 

Please don't leave me behind little spotted feather I can't do this on my own: we're partners in crime, not one without the other

Ying and Yang, balance in an unbalanced world

Please don't cut your string

I can't lose you, not you as well

I was fine with instability, insanity, madness, never ending tears one day, dry deserts the next, the self hatred swirling around like a tornado inside me

I can only do this if you're still here with a beating heart dove. 

You gave me a secondary heart attack and I'm still realling from it, head dizzy, vision blurry, my heart a frantic beat and my eyes an ocean set free.


	3. Freak Show

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gender dysphoria

Fingers glide up and down, wrapping themselves   
around flesh in distaste at what’s there; sticking out of place. Winding roads tilted on its side, a canyon stretches across where there should only be a bridge, straight and only bending slightly at the ends to attach to the slick, un-bent road that lies on its side that should be but aren’t there. 

 

Blink, deep breathe, and the mirage disappears to reveal the unsettling truth; that what you thought was there quickly dissipated into the smoky air. A face like a large bubble, ready to pop any moment from the demons that writhe under the pale flesh. Overweight, curves racing past each other, each turn sharper as they’re more pronounced some days more than others. 

 

Hair growing where others shame me for it, uncaring yet just wishing I was normal. Large, bulbous, masses of fat sit still like unwanted mountain peaks blocking the smooth, flat view of what’s beneath. 

 

Short in height, voice too high, pronouns, nicknames, all too girly; meant for a girl when I am not. I want thick, broad shoulders that stretch across like a bridge, my short hair even shorter; a males cut that would make me look even more the handsome prince come to save the princess. 

 

Coarse hair decorating my face, chest, back, everywhere! I am a man, why can’t the world see that, why most I hide away until I’m positive so they can tear me down just a tiny bit less than they would if I was unsure, not knowing as to what I am or want. If I know, I’m too cocky, don’t know I’m meek; I know but I dare not speak it aloud for fear of how they’ll react to my freak show that I am.

 

Flat chest, large shoulders, muscles, hair all over my face, strength everywhere coursing through my veins, rough calloused hands gripping lightly a girls hand, tall, a fucking dick would be so much nicer but I can’t have any of these wonderful things, I can’t in fear of how the world will answer my call when I ring.


	4. Bells Ringing Out

Come on and tell me, give me your honest answer, on who the fuck gives a shit about this?   
It's clear you don't, you're just spitting out lie after lie, telling us your opinions when in reality it's somebody else's shoved inside your head; passed off as your own. 

But it's not yours to own, because you don't know what you're telling us, spouting out to the world like a fountain that's been broken or a damaged record stuck on repeat. Repeat Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. If it wasn't bad enough that you shout this out to us when we're forced to be there to learn but then to call us in and meddle in our lives, our personal affairs, and to tell us that you understand? 

That oh well life is hard but you'll get through it, is straight up bullshit. I get that you're trying to relate to me, but you don't know a damn thing about me, what I've been through, or what constantly runs through my mind minute after minute, hour after hour, hell day after day. 

You don't know that when I'm asked if I'm alright that I lie straight through my teeth, nobody there to catch my bluff or to see what's behind my eyes covered so well that nobody can tell that I'm a shattered China doll.

 

But hey that doesn't matter, so long as we pass our classes and get the good grades, because they're no longer concerned with us learning but rather us passing the class. 

 

If you're so concerned with my life then why don't you notice me when I participate, when I try, when it's a good day and I want to be here until something happens that you don't notice that sends me back into the pit of sadness, of wishing I didn't exist, of wondering if wanting to end it all just from being here is worth trying to learn pointless things that won't help me later on in life. 

 

So please stop trying to say you can relate when I'm nothing more than a ghost to you...


	5. Broken Ballerina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy thoughts of suicide, please stay safe

I'm standing on a broken ledge, I'm staring down and wondering all while still suffering do I jump or not? Do I see if I can fly, if its possible to touch the sky and beyond? Will the clouds and rivers cried from my eyes sustain the weight of my crashing dreams? Of happier times when words didn't hurt as much and I was happy with how I was. 

 

But now it seems as if they've all come crashing down around my feet. Where has all the positivity gone, why is it nothing but grey skies around here from one day to the next? Maybe it is time for me to bite the bullet, to be free of this crushing, agonizing, unending pain that has no name but just lurks around the corner. 

 

The music is fading, it's time, it feels, for my departure from this stage. But what's this, another person has more music for me to dance to. To lie to. To act to. I can't keep this plastic facade up much longer. 

 

Oh but the curtain is rising its seems that's my que. Maybe then on another day, on another day, on another day will I cut this masks dreadful strings and dive off the deep end into the water and drown.


	6. We Are The New Generation

Snapbacks sit perched upon their heads as they walk on eggshells around the beasts inside their minds wondering if it's truly all their fault. That maybe the hits they take will mean something and that the words whispered aloud by themselves are the defining factors of their character. Converse slip and slide as they launch themselves far away from the monsters that rush at them inside and outside of their minds. Sunglasses and murmured words build themselves up 

 

We spend our whole lives waiting for that perfect piece of flesh and personality to walk in. We plan and we wait and we center our lives around what could be. When it doesn't work out or others laugh at what we have to say we hunch into our haunches and smile. 

 

We laugh and we smile and we howl at the moon like the wild things we are that hide inside our hearts. We bury every single one of our bodies beneath a blanket of blabber and lies, the pain is just a necessary side effect of what's to come. Yea well because of the necessity to hide behind a sorrow filled shadow we've given up on love. Tired limbs grasp at anything they can as we fall deeper and deeper into this hell hole and our hearts give out.


End file.
